


The Journal of Bethany Tyler

by Greenlady, Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: Twenty/Twenty [13]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Greenlady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: A new employee at the BCPD objects to the relationship between Starsky and Hutch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been bugging me for way too long, and though I didn't want to write it, I just had to give in. I am still going to write the other chapters in this long series, but I had to get this chapter out of my head first. There is going to be violence in later chapters, but it and the non-con are not between Starsky and Hutch, of course.

** The Journal of Bethany Tyler **

****

First Day:

     This is my first entry in my new journal.  A new journal for a new life.  It’s all so exciting.  I moved into my new apartment the other day – the one I share with one of my best friends – she helped me get my job, and we’re going to share expenses here.  It’s so convenient because we work at the same place.  Bay City PD.  PD stands for police department!!!  I’m not a cop, of course.  There are lots of women cops these days, but it’s not natural.  And they’re all sort of masculine.  Like, butch-type masculine.  Sharon says it’s not fair to judge people like that, but how can I help it?

     I mean, it’s the most basic fact of life, right?  Men are men, and women are women, and we’re different and have different roles.  It’s always been this way, but perverted people try to pervert this natural order.  I don’t know why, but maybe it’s because they hate God.  That’s what Pastor Barnes said in his sermon that day a few weeks ago.  Sharon was staying with us, and we all went to church together.  She got up and left in the middle of the sermon, all upset because the pastor told us it was okay to hate queers, because they hate God.  Dad was upset because Sharon left in the middle of church, and almost told me I couldn’t live with her from now on if she was a supporter of queers.  But I just got my new job, and I can’t afford an apartment on my own, and I need my job right now.  I wish I was married and could stay home and have babies and do housework like women should, like Mom does.  But right now, it’s not possible.  Mom and Dad have so many kids even I’ve almost lost count, and she’s pregnant again, and my job at the feed store isn’t bringing in enough money. I need to move out on my own, and then I can give some of my pay to Mom to help with the bills.  It’s all too upsetting.  Anyway, we’re here, in the same apartment and Sharon is great, even if she does have strange ideas about equal rights.  I can’t get into that right now. Maybe tomorrow. 

 

Second Day:

     Today I had my orientation to my new job.  I’m working in the clerical department, answering phones and so on.  I mean I will be when I’ve been properly oriented.  Right now I’m being trained and what they call oriented.  This involves being introduced to the culture of the BCPD.  That’s what they call it: culture.  So far, I’ve had lessons in how to address various people.  How to speak to them.  I must be respectful to everyone, I’m told.  Well, of course.  I’m never disrespectful.  Though I did have a bit of a reaction to the meeting I had to attend in which new employees were lectured about how the BCPD was an equal opportunity employer, and that women and minorities were equal and must be treated as such.  Okay. So far, so good.  Until I discovered that minorities included queers!!!

 

     I tried to argue with the lecturer but got shut down.  That’s the new reality in this world where queers have taken over. Okay, yes.  She listened to me at first when I said queers aren’t a minority group, because they chose to be who they are. When I tried to tell her that we Christians are a minority group and we're discriminated against, she told me that Christians are the majority in this country, that every president has been a Christian, and that there are no laws against being a Christian.  I asked her why queers have special rights?  She told me they don’t!!! Can you believe it?  They’re allowed to be cops.  In some evil countries – like Canada – they can even get married when every good Christian knows marriage is between one man and one woman.  What do you call this but special rights?  At that point, she asked me to please not give us all a sermon on my personal beliefs. She told me I could believe what I want, but my beliefs don’t belong at work.  But the perverted beliefs of the queers are okay at work?  Again, this is special rights, and totally not fair.

 

     Now Sharon won’t talk to me.  She won’t listen to me when I try to explain.  To tell her the truth before it’s too late.  Queers are going to burn in Hell for all eternity.  Christians are falling down in their duty to warn them.  We might be punished by God, too, if we don’t do our duty.  Sharon stared at me when I told her that.  Then she shook her head and said, and I quote: “Bethany, do you still believe that sort of thing?  I always used to envy you being home-schooled.  I thought you had it easy, and I used to beg Mom to let me stay home, too.  But she wanted me to be exposed to different ideas, even though Dad disagreed.  He gave in to her, and now I’m glad.  At least I’m not as closed-minded as you are.  For God’s sake, Bethany, grow up.  Look around you.”

 

     “Why do you support those people?”  I finally managed to ask.

 

     “Because they’re people,” she spluttered. 

 

     “They’re people who have demons inside them, who urge them to do perverted things against God,” I replied.  Again, she stared at me for a long time.  Then she sighed, got up from the edge of my bed where she’d been sitting, and smiled.

 

     “Why don’t you get some sleep,” she suggested.  “It’s been a long, upsetting day.  We both must go to work tomorrow.  I don’t want to fight with you tonight.  Okay?”

 

     “Okay,” I said.  “Goodnight.”

 

     So.  Sharon doesn’t really believe what she’s been saying.  She doesn’t have any argument against my logic, so she shuts me down, just like the person who gave that lecture about special rights for queers.  Tomorrow I’m going to see if there are other people at work who know the truth. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Third Day:

     I lay awake last night thinking.  Sharon keeps telling me I don’t think, but I do.  I do think.  Sharon keeps telling me I’m not well-educated, but I am.  Mom…. Mom wasn’t well educated, but she’s a good woman and very wise.  I see how she keeps the peace with Dad.  How she helps him control his temper.  How she obeys him no matter what.  She still keeps her dignity.  She may not have taught me all the fancy science and literature and history that Sharon learned in school, but she taught me dignity.  How to be dignified no matter how difficult life was. No matter how much you hurt inside. 

 

     The queers would sneer at that.  They’d laugh at her.  The men – men on the outside maybe, but lower than women inside, that’s what Pastor Barnes says – they would mock her womanhood. So would the queer women as they stand there in their trousers, guns on their hips, badges of power on their chests, that should be soft and motherly.  They’d mock my Mom.  After so many children, she’s soft and fat, but still warm and loving. She’s still dignified.  Even when Dad beats her.

 

     Oh, God.  I wrote that down.  I really wrote it down.  I’m sitting here looking at those words.  How could I write it down?  But it is the truth.  Aren’t we Christians supposed to be about the truth?  That’s what Pastor Barnes says.  He says we have to tell the truth about sinners – especially queers and bad women. 

 

     When I tried to talk to him about Mom, and how tired she was taking care of all the little kids, and how Dad beat her, he called me a disobedient daughter, and said I should never speak of it again. 

 

     But I only told the truth.

 

     Is Sharon right about this?  Are we really bigoted and closed-minded?

 

     I remember those times we all went into Los Angeles to protest the so-called Pride Parade.  I remember Dad sneering at the queers.  “They’re proud of what they are.  Perverts. Sick, sick perverts.  Destroying society. And they’re proud!”

 

     The first time I went with my family, and the church, I think I was 8.  It was about ten years ago, anyway.  The men had all picked out a corner spot for us to set up with our signs.  Signs telling the queers they were going to burn in Hell for all eternity, of course. But other signs.  Quotes from the Bible proving their iniquity.  Some signs begging them to repent.  Statements about marriage being between one man and one woman.  The usual stuff.  I’d heard so much about queers for the last few days, and I’d begun to be curious.   Oh, of course I’d seen pictures.  Pictures of men in weird costumes.  Pictures of men dressed as women, or with wings taped to their shoulders.  But the first people who came around the corner, heading our way, looked like everyone else.  They wore jeans and T-shirts for the most part. 

 

     Our group started booing, and hooting, and calling them names. They ignored us as they strode by.  Later I saw some people on floats. Half naked or completely naked.  Mom and Dad told us to cover our eyes and screamed at the people on the floats.  “Shame!  Shame!  Shame!”

 

     Someone yelled back, “If you don’t want to see us, go home!”

 

     Last summer we were there again, for the third time.  I was 17.  I hadn't been at the so-called Pride Parade since I was 13.  Since then I’d started my period.  Become a woman.  This time I must confess that I was even more curious about these queers.  I must confess I was looking forward to seeing some naked men.  But of course that was sinful of me, I know.  I just couldn’t help myself. 

 

     We were on our usual corner.  The parade turned the corner and there they were.  Normal looking people.  Of course they hid the perverts in the middle of the parade, Pastor Barnes pointed out.  We started up our chants about burning in Hell.  For all eternity.  Dad started shouting, “Stay away from our kids!”

 

     A guy broke away from the parade for a moment and came towards us.  Dad pushed the little kids behind him.  “Stay away!” he screamed. 

 

     The guy was laughing.  He wore jeans, a black T-shirt, and athletic shoes. He had dark curly hair, and bright dark blue eyes.  He looked happy.  He looked like he laughed a lot.   He was laughing now.  “Calm down,” he said.  “If you don’t want us near your kids, why did you bring them here?”

 

     “To show you what normal people are like,” said Dad.  “To show you what you’re missing.  Marriage is between one man and one woman!”

 

     The guy laughed again.  “Fine!”  he said.  “You’ve shown us normal people, and told me to stay away from your kids.  I don’t want anything to do with your kids anyway, but fine.  Relax, okay?  Or go home or something.  It’s a hot day. Don’t give yourself a coronary.”

 

     At that moment, another guy in the crowd turned, and called to him.  “Starsky?  What the hell are you doing?’

 

     The first guy laughed, and winked at me.  “My Lord and Master calls,” he said. “I’m fine, Hutch,”  he yelled back. 

 

     The other guy – oh!  This is getting complicated.  The other guy started toward the first guy.  Starsky, he’d called him.  The other guy.  I can’t describe him calmly, because he was so handsome.  Blond doesn’t begin to describe him.  He was glowing, out in the sun.  Just glowing. And he was laughing too.  He came up to Starsky and pulled him into his arms.  Shook him a little.  “Ignore them!” he said.  “It’s useless to talk to these people.  You know that.”

 

     “Mmmm,” said Starsky.  “I do know that.  But it’s so amusing, you know?”

 

     “Mmmm,” said Hutch.  “You’re so amusing.”  And then they were kissing. Right there in front of us.  Like we were nothing to them.  Like decency didn’t matter.  They stood there, locked in each other’s arms. Swaying and kissing for what seemed like hours to me, though it was only a few moments, and then they broke apart and ran back to the parade.

 

     Why am I writing about this horrible scene?  Because those two guys are cops!  Cops at the BCPD.  I’m working with them.  Oh, God. And Hutch is so beautiful.  And I have to save him from his terrible lifestyle. 

 

     Is that wrong?  Am I wrong? 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Fourth Day:

     I’m so happy today.  I have a mission now, and I won’t have to just sit back and let the queers and their supporters have their own way any longer.  Saving Ken Hutchinson from the evil demons that control his life is my mission.  It’s just one queer I’ll be saving, but it will be an important one.  When he’s cured, and we’re married, and he tells everyone in the world that you don’t have to be homosexual, that you can stop the sinning, kill the demon inside that makes you do those evil things, and I’m standing there beside him, smiling up at him, and he tells the world that I saved him….I won’t just be little Bethany any longer.  People won’t sneer at my lack of education.  They won’t tell me to grow up.  They won’t….

 

     Sharon will be sorry she put me down like that, when I prove to her that I’m the one who’s right. 

 

     I have to plan out my campaign.  It won’t be easy. I don’t think I can just walk up to Ken Hutchinson and say, “Here I am.  I’m a woman.  Give up all your sinful sex with men and I’ll love you and take care of you.”  He won’t believe me because of the demon inside telling him I’m the evil one.  I need to be friendly with him at first.  Let him see I’m not scary or threatening.  Let him know I’m a pure virgin, and he can be the strong man in our relationship, and I’ll be submissive and obedient, and having sex with me -- when we get married -- won’t be difficult and scary.

 

     Today I got my uniform.  The clerical workers here wear uniforms.  Mine is very modest and dignified, and feminine.  A pale blue shirt and a navy knee-length skirt. And I have my own nametag.  **Bethany Tyler, Clerk 1.** So I’m official.  I’m the lowest one on the ladder of the Clerical Department, but I’m official.  Now I can try getting acquainted with Ken Hutchinson, and I’ll be on my way. 

 

Fifth Day:

     I don’t think my mission is going to go as smoothly as I thought, but that’s not my fault.  It’s his fault.  I mean David Starsky’s fault.  He hangs around Ken Hutchinson all the time.  They’re working on a case together right now, so when that’s over, maybe I’ll have more luck.  In the meantime, when I tried to smile at Ken, and say “Hi!”, he barely noticed me.  Ken, I mean. Ken said “Hi” back, but in an off-hand way, with a nod, and walked on as if I wasn’t there.  Dave Starsky was with him, walking really close.   Dave Starsky turned and gave me a look.  I’m pretty innocent about this sort of thing – flirting with men, I mean, because I never had the chance before.  My Dad would have beaten me within an inch of my life! As I say, I’ve never flirted before. -- But even I could figure out that the look David Starsky gave me was to warn me to back off.  Who does he think he is?

 

     Okay, I remember that parade.  Ken kissed him, but that means nothing.  Or does Dave Starsky think it does?  Does he think that kiss gives him some kind of rights?  Like they’re in love or something?  Queers don’t love. They can’t.  I remember another of Pastor Barnes sermons.  He told us queers are incapable of love of any kind, but especially the kind of love married people feel for each other.  Queers have sex. Lots of sex, all the time, and they think that’s a kind of love.  But of course it’s not. Of course it’s not.  Sex and love are two different things.  And the kind of sex queers have has nothing of love in it.  Pastor Barnes told us a little about it, and the little he told us made me feel sick.  How can Ken do those things?  He must be suffering so much.  He must be longing to be rescued from his agony.

 

     All this is a bit scary though.  If Ken can’t feel love, or if he doesn’t know what love is, it’s going to be hard for me to get to him. Especially with that Dave Starsky hanging around. Maybe he’s trying to keep him for the queers.  Is that what they do?  Perhaps. 

 

     I stayed at the BCPD really late, practicing some of my new job skills, and hoping to bump into Ken, “accidentally”.  But that Dave Starsky hung around, too.  I saw them meet up in the lobby, and then walk to the parking garage.  They were walking so close together they were practically arm in arm. 

 

Sixth Day:

     Okay.  Things are worse than I thought.  They live together!  Can you believe it?  Ken lives with that horrible Dave Starsky.  So Starsky has the chance to undo any good I try to do to Ken. 

 

     Why?  Why do they live together?  How does this work?  I’ve been trying to imagine how two queers would live together.  How they’d….  No!  Do they sleep together?  In the same bed? What would that be like?  Two men.  Two sets of big hairy legs.  Two…two male organs?

 

     How do they do it, anyway?  You know.  It.

 

     Pastor Barnes told us a little, but I still can’t picture it.  I can’t imagine Ken wanting that.  Ken being happy with another man…. No!  It’s all so wrong.  So ugly.  I have to do something.  Even more than before I’m on a mission. 

 

     How do I get rid of Dave Starsky? 


	4. Chapter 4

Day Seven:

 

     This is Sunday, so I didn’t work today.  I could have worked overtime, but it’s a sin to work on Sunday.  Sharon did some overtime.  She told me that she doesn’t feel it’s a sin because the police are important. They save people’s lives and catch criminals.  She’s not a police officer, but the support staff is very important to the process. I still think it’s wrong, and she told me she understands.  I can’t be forced to work on Sunday or a holy day, like Christmas and Easter.  That’s good.

 

     Mom and Dad wanted me to come home to go to church with them, but it’s too far to go, and I’m tired after my first week of work.  Dad got mad at me and asked how hard it could be sitting down all day answering phones.  I had to bite my tongue to keep from arguing back.  I probably could have gone home, but I guess I’m feeling much freer and less stressed out away from all the tension at home, even if I am tired.  It’s a good tiredness, not like….  How does Mom stand it? 

 

     I know it’s a duty of Christians to have as many children as possible.  Mom has told me all about this.  Non-Christians don’t have many children, but they’re still in the majority somehow.  The more children we have, the sooner we can take over the government and change the laws for the better.  We’ll get rid of abortion – all abortions, no matter the reasons, birth control of any kind, for any reason, higher education for women so they stay home and have babies instead of working when they should be home, laws giving queers special rights and so on.  Maybe even make it illegal to be queer again.  Maybe even make it a capital offense again, like in the bible. 

 

     I wouldn’t want Ken to be hanged or stoned to death or burnt at the stake, so that’s another reason I need to save him. 

 

     Instead of going home, I went out and found a church that looked friendly and welcoming and sat in a seat at the back to see if I liked it.  I don’t know anything about other denominations, I must admit.  We were always told the other churches weren’t truly Christian, so maybe picking one at random wasn’t a good idea.  But I didn’t have time to look around until I found an acceptable Baptist congregation.  Greater Los Angeles is so huge.  Maybe next Sunday, if I’m less worn out?  Maybe I could find one online that is close by. 

 

     The church I went to seemed very nice.  The music was good. The pastor gave a sermon all about love, and he never said anything about hating queers. So, other pastors don’t give sermons about queers all the time, I guess. I guess Sharon would like that.  I’m feeling a bit friendlier to Sharon right now.  She’s right that hating people isn’t very Christian, even if they are trying to destroy society.

 

Eighth Day:

     I had some good luck today.   When I went to the staff cafeteria for some coffee, Ken was there.  Alone.  He was sitting at a table all alone, drinking coffee and eating a salad.  Wearing navy trousers and a white shirt open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled.  Boots.  A jacket hanging over the back of his chair.  Reading something on his tablet.  I said, “Hi!”  Just like before he answered me in a rather off-hand way.  He looked tired and sad.  “Do you mind if I sit here?”  I asked.

 

     He waved his hand in a casual gesture.  “It’s a free country,” he said. 

 

     I sat down across from him and sipped my coffee.  “How’s it going?”  I asked, copying the way I’d heard other people here talk to each other.  That seemed a safe enough question.

 

     “It’s going,” he said.  “Not fast enough.”

 

     “What do you mean?”  I asked.  Then, “Sorry.  It’s not my business.”

 

     “No big secret,” he said.  “It’s this case we’re working on.   Starsky and I. We’re not regular partners here at work, of course.  That’s a bit tricky for married people.”

 

     “Married?”  I managed to keep my voice steady as if I were merely curious.

 

     “We’re not married yet,” he replied.  “Just domestic partners so far.”  He sighed as if that were a great tragedy or something, instead of a reason for rejoicing.  “We’re waiting – we… I’m insisting we wait until it’s legal across the country.  Someday. Soon we hope.  Starsky wants to get married now, but I’m being stubborn. I don’t want to marry him and then wake up one morning and find out the rug has been pulled out from under us.”

 

     “Would that matter to you?”  I asked.  It was hard to get the words out, but I managed. 

 

     “It wouldn’t change our relationship,” he said.  “But it would hurt.  To think we were finally being treated as equal human beings with equal rights, and then suddenly being put down again.  Being told we’re nothing again. But why am I talking to you like this?  You don’t care.”

 

     “No. No, I do care.”  I reached out and put my hand on his arm for a moment.  He smiled at me, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.  His eyes were a brilliant blue.  The room seemed to spin around me.  Then he was looking at me strangely and gently pulled his arm away from my hand. Damn.  For a moment there I thought I was convincing him it was okay to not hate women.

 

     “Bethany,” he said, very gently.  His voice was soft and deep like velvet.  I had touched velvet once, years ago.  Now I was hearing it.  “Bethany,” he said again, a bit sharper now.  “I’m glad you care.  You seem like a caring person.  I mean that. So I’ll explain to you…. Starsky.… David Starsky is the most important part of my whole life.  He’s my best friend, as well as my lover.  He’s everything to me. That’s why it hurts when people talk about our love as if it didn’t even exist.  I don’t want to make a commitment to him and then have it erased by a committee that doesn’t know who or what we are.  Can you understand that?”

 

     I was left speechless.  I honestly didn’t understand what he was saying.   Not at all.  How could he talk about love when he was incapable of loving anyone?  I had been staring at my hands throughout his speech, but now I looked up to face his eyes.  He wasn’t looking at me, however.  He was staring down the cafeteria.   Three people were walking towards us. One of them was David Starsky. 

 

     Ken got to his feet and held out his hands.  Starsky slapped his palms against Ken’s.  “Hey, Partner,” he said.  “Whatch’a doin’ here all alone?”

 

     “I had to think, and it’s hard to think around you.  You talk so much,” Ken told him.

 

     ‘Yeah, yeah.  I’ve heard it all before,’ Starsky said back. 

 

     They were laughing and joking like ordinary people.  The other people with them were a middle-aged man and a young woman.  The man was white, the woman black.  They seemed to accept Ken and Dave Starsky, and each other, like it was all normal.   Then Ken spoke up.  “Harry.  Rachel.  This is Bethany.  A new employee here.” 

 

     Harry and Rachel said hello to me and sat down with us.  Dave Starsky smiled at me, nodded, said hello.   Ken looked up at him, and grinned.  “I was telling Bethany what a nuisance you are,” he said. 

    

     Dave Starsky just laughed.  “It’s late,” he said.  “let’s go home so I can be more of a nuisance.”  They said goodbye to everyone and walked away.  People waved goodbye to them as they walked away hand in hand as if it were normal

     

     They act like normal human beings, and people treat them like that.  What does it mean?

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Day Nine:

     Dad called me at work this morning.  We got into an argument.  It was hard to go back to work, but Mom taught me well.  I kept myself together, as she would say.  Finally it was my lunch break.  I got my sandwich from the fridge, picked up a coffee to go at the Starbucks in the lobby, and headed to the courtyard out back.  People had been telling me the yard had picnic tables and benches, but for some reason I’d felt shy about using them.  Memories of church picnics?  Anyway, it’s pleasant there and I’ll probably go again.  If….

 

     I found a small café table under a tree and sat down to eat my sandwich.  I didn’t really feel like eating, but I made myself eat.  I made myself drink the expensive coffee.  I thought of things that other people had made me do over the years.  At least this was by my choice, and there was a reason for it.  I needed the energy to get through the day.

 

     “Mind if I join you?”  The voice was deep velvet.  I looked up.  Ken stood there smiling at me. 

 

     “Um….”  I said.

 

     “Thanks,” he replied.  What was he doing here?  Had he changed already?  Surely I couldn’t be that lucky.  He sat quietly for a few minutes eating his own sandwich and drinking his own coffee.  He was reading something on his tablet again.  The Starbucks coffee cup said ‘HUTCH’ and ‘LATTE’.  Then he looked up at me and said, “They tell me you got an upsetting call from home.”

 

     “I’m fine,” I said.

 

     “Okay, but you can talk to me.  I’m pretty much a stranger.  I know nothing about your circumstances, and we don’t work together all day, like with the other people in your department.  They tell me I’m easy to talk to.”  He shrugged.  “But maybe not.”

 

     “Mom’s in the hospital.  She lost the baby.  Dad wants me to come home.  I don’t want to go.”  I took a big gulp of my coffee and nearly choked.  Ken reached out and patted my back.  I almost expected him to say, ‘there, there’, but he didn’t.

 

     He said, “I’m sorry.”

 

     I said, “Don’t be.”

 

     He said, “Okay.”

 

     I said, “I’m a terrible daughter.  I don’t care that she’s lost the baby.  I’m happy for the baby.  That’s terrible of me but it’s true.  She had twenty kids.  Twenty.  She says it’s because she loves children, and I guess she does.  But she told me that her womb is like a weapon, and her children are her bullets.  She’s sending us out into the world to fight evil.  Evil, like the liberals, the liberal media, education, abortion, feminists….”  I stopped to gulp more coffee.

 

     “Queers like me?” he added to my list.

 

     “No, no.  You’re not queer.  Who told you that?  You’re a good kind person. A man.”

 

     “Thanks for the compliment about being good and kind, but Bethany, I am totally queer.  I’ve always been gay.  I love men.  I love sex with men.  I am never going to change.”

     “But you could.  You could.”

 

     “No.  And I don’t want to. Bethany, if you are expecting me to change, and you don’t want to speak to me again if I don’t, then say so now.  I think you are a caring person inside.  I don’t believe you’re a terrible daughter.  You can talk to me about what’s going on at home, and I’ll support you in your decision.  I’ll be your friend, okay?  But I’m not going to change. If you hate me now….”

 

     “No.  I could never hate you.”  And it was true.

 

     “Okay,” he said.  He didn’t look like he really believed me, but he sat back and waved his hand vaguely in my direction.  “Talk,” he said.  “What’s up?”

 

     I sat staring at him for a moment. I had just realized that no man had ever shown any signs of actually caring about my life.  Why did he care about mine? “Mom and Dad have twenty children, including me,” I said.  He nodded.  “I’m the eldest daughter.  I’ve been taking care of the younger children all my life.  I have two older brothers, and they work on the farm, so they do nothing at home.”  He snorted, not at all in a kindly way.  “Then there are brothers and sisters and brothers and sisters.  And it’s not that I don’t care about them all.  I care about them. It’s just…when do I get to have my own life, you know?”

 

     “I know,” he said.  “Go on.”

 

     I went on.  “So.  I finally convinced Mom and Dad to let me leave home for a while to work, and I would send them money to make up for me being gone.  They finally agreed.  Then Mom fell down the stairs. She lost the baby, and she’s in the hospital.  Dad told me I had to come home.  But I just started this job.  I like it.  I met you, and….”

 

     “And you thought maybe I would change and be some kind of romantic interest?  It’s okay, Bethany.  Don’t be embarrassed.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  It happens to us all.  Perhaps you didn’t have many available men at home?  Hmm?”

 

     “No,” I managed to choke out through my embarrassment. 

 

     “The first boy I fell in love with… well, I let him know, and he told everyone I was gay, and it got back to my parents.  They tried everything they could to change me, but it didn’t work.”

 

     “What did they try?”

 

     “You don’t need to know that.  It was horrible, but I lived through it and I’m living my own life now.  I have Starsky’s love and that makes up for everything.  Enough about me.  I gather you don’t want to quit your job and go home?”

 

     “No. Dad told me if I didn’t come home now, I could never come home.”

 

     “Yeah, I know all about that kind of fathering.  From what I can gather, there are lots of other bullets…I mean kids of both genders at home to take care of the babies and the cooking and so on?”

 

     “They could get by,” I admitted.

 

     “Good.  I’m not telling you what to do, Bethany.  It’s up to you, okay?  If you want to go home and take care of your siblings, I’ll help you any way I can.  If you want to stay here and keep your job, I’ll help you do that.  It’s all your choice.”

 

     “I want to stay here,” I managed to whisper.  “But I want to help Mom.”  But why did he care what I did or what happened to me?

 

     “I think you’re wise, and a good daughter too,” he said.  “Would sending them some money help?”

 

     “Yes, but I’ve only been here a few days, and….”

 

     “And you haven’t been paid yet.  Right. Finish your sandwich and coffee and let’s go.”  He tossed the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and gulped down his latte. 

 

     “Where are we going?”  I asked, finishing my own coffee.  I threw out what was left of my sandwich, and he frowned but I ignored him.  I’d get something to eat later, if all worked out. 

 

     “The Union office,” he said.  “They’ll help you, or I’ll know the reason why.”  He got to his feet and started marching.  That’s the only word to describe it. I had never seen anyone so intimidating, even my Dad when he was in a rage.  Pastor Barnes tried to look scary, but he had nothing on Ken Hutchinson. 

 

     Maybe my Dad and Pastor Barnes don’t know everything about queers after all.

 

 

 

    

 


	6. Chapter 6

    

 

     I don’t know how it happened.  Honestly, I don’t know.  I remember Ken shouting at some men – big, rough looking men who seemed a bit intimidated by him -- and then sweet-talking some lady or other who blushed and looked about as flustered as I must look whenever he smiled at me.  But suddenly I had a check in my hand and cash money too.   

     Then, “Okay,” he said.  “How do we get the money to your Mom?”

     “I could mail a check,”

     “That’d take too long.”  He frowned.

     “I could take the money right to her.”  For some reason I felt reluctant to do this.  He gave me a look, and I sensed that he sensed my reluctance.  I knew that if Dad saw me at the hospital, he’d force me to come home.  He was used to riding right over all my objections and I’d been raised to give in to all his demands. 

     “What hospital would your Mom be in?”

     More people became involved.  A Captain called Dobey.  Rachel, Ken’s regular partner.  And of course, Dave Starsky, who just seems to be attached to Ken even if he’s supposed to have his own regular partner: Harry, in other words.  They were all talking at once about the case they were working on.  Dave Starsky said something about ‘it would be like killing two birds with one stone’, and Ken said “Ewww.”  But the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the back seat of Dave Starsky’s bright red sports car.  Dave Starsky was driving, and Ken was sitting beside him.  Ken had politely offered to let me sit in front, but I didn’t want to for many reasons.  Dave Starsky chuckled and said something about Ken having dibs on riding shotgun anyway, being his husband and all.  I really didn’t know what was happening, except we were going to see Mom in the hospital, where Ken would help me to defend my right to my own independent life, and then on the way home we were going to talk to a possible witness to something or other. The witness was outside of Starsky and Hutch’s jurisdiction, but they had permission just to talk to the person, and I could go along since the witness was a woman and she might feel more comfortable talking to cops if another woman was there. 

     Okay. 

     So there I was riding in the back, staring at Ken’s arm, which lay along the back of the front seat, behind Dave Starsky.  Then Ken began to ruffle Starsky’s hair.  He didn’t seem to be doing it to put on a show for me.  He just seemed to do it automatically, as if he always did it when they drove together.  But I still felt like it was directed to me.

     But I’d begun to realize that Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson pretty much did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and they just dragged everyone else along with them.  I dragged my own eyes away from Ken’s caressing hand and stared out the window.  I realized we were driving along the coast. I remembered happier days when Mom and Dad were younger, when I was younger, when our whole family was younger.  When the world was younger. We used to take brief vacations at the seashore, and we’d all go swimming in the ocean.  Mom and Dad seemed to be in love, and they loved us kids. We had fun together.  Nothing like that had happened for years.  What had gone wrong?  How come two queers seemed happier than my Mom and Dad?  I felt my eyes fill with tears.

     “We’ll be leaving the coast soon,” said Dave Starsky.  “Hutch needs his daily dose of ocean views.  I don’t mind driving by the ocean.  But we have to turn inland in a couple of miles.”

     “Okay,” I said.

     “You okay, Bethany?” asked Ken.  He turned to look at me through his sunglasses.  Aviators, I think they’re called.

     “I’m fine.”

     “We’ll be at the hospital soon, and you can see your Mom.  That’ll make you feel better.”

     Would it, I wondered?  I wasn’t sure of anything any longer.  I kept wanting to blame Dave Starsky for everything, but something inside me reminded me it wasn’t his fault.  He had nothing to do with Mom being in the hospital, or Dad beating her.  It wasn’t his fault we hadn’t been a happy family for years.  He and Ken had been…friends long before I met Ken, so I guessed it wasn’t really his fault Ken wasn’t interested in me. But I wanted to blame him.  I wanted it all to be someone’s fault. Someone other than me.

     When was the last time we’d been a happy family?  I stared out the window at the ocean. The Pacific Ocean.  Pacific means peace, I think.  When had we last had peace?  A memory came to me.  I was 8.  The first time we’d gone to protest the Queer Pride March.  Pastor Barnes had come to our church not long before that, after Pastor Simpson died.  Pastor Simpson had been old, but he’d been a bit of a liberal, more liberal than some members of the congregation had liked.  But Pastor Simpson was loved, and no one had wanted to protest until after he died.  Then they began agitating for a more conservative pastor to lead our congregation back to biblical truth. 

     A few months later, Pastor Barnes showed up with his Hellfire sermons against queers.  I remember that because of how he’d scared me, preaching against sodomy and how that was a sign the world was going to end.  I hadn’t wanted the world to end, and when I said so, Pastor Barnes had told me that was why we had to destroy the sodomites.  The sodomites were evil. They destroyed everything in their path, because they hated God and all his works.  I had never heard of sodomites before.  I knew very little of the world. I was 7 years old then, and a few months later I turned 8 and I went to the protest against the sodomites and I screamed hatred against them like everyone else did.  I believed every word Pastor Barnes said, because that was what I’d been told to do.

     I always did what I was told.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Day Nine, continued....  

 

     Wow.  I really got off track with this journal entry.  Or maybe not:

     We made it to the hospital without an accident, though once we got off the coast road and hit the freeway, Starsky drove like a lunatic.  That word is the one Ken used to describe his driving, but it’s accurate. 

     I found Mom’s hospital room.  Dad wasn’t there, but Susan and Robert were.  I need to back up a little here.  Ken and Starsky suggested that I deposit the check from the Union in my bank account and then write Mom a check.  At first, I didn’t like that idea, but… Well, they were wise and I’m glad I took their advice.  It’s hard to explain this even to myself, but as soon as I walked into the hospital room, I felt…like I was supposed to take over the entire situation.  I mean, give up my job, come home, cook dinner, clean house, do laundry, take care of Mom when she gets home.  And on and on.  In fact, that was what they expected me to do.  Susan is only a year younger than I am.  Robert is two years older.  I told them to deal with it all, and they started yelling at me. The nurse came around and they blamed me for the yelling.  I told Susie and Bob to leave while I talked to Mom. 

     Mom started to cry, and she told me I had to come home.  I said no.  This is the first time I’ve ever stood up for myself, other than when I insisted I wanted to get a job and move out, and that was only going to be temporary.  I told Mom I had to stay a little longer because I needed to earn the money my employer had loaned me to give to her.  I think that’s a bit of a lie, but still.  How could I take money from the Union and not pay it back when I haven’t even paid union dues yet?  I’m sure that’s unethical.  So, I didn’t hand over all the money to Mom.  I wrote her a check for part of it, just in case they force me to quit. Now I won’t have to pay back so much if that happens. 

     Mom wasn’t happy I’d gotten a ride from two men I barely knew.  When I told her they would never have laid a hand on me, she looked suspicious.  Does she think all men are rapists, or what?  I’m sure even if they weren’t, you know?  Even then they wouldn’t have molested me. 

     So, my visit to see Mom wasn’t quite like I expected.  Mom seemed really tired and sore.  She had bruises that…. Okay, she said they were from falling down the stairs, but I know Dad hits her.  Is that why?  No.  I just can’t think about all that right now.  I can’t shield Mom from Dad.  I tried in the past and it never worked. 

     Susie and Bob need to take care of the house and the little kids, until Mom goes home.  I’m sticking with my job and I’ll send checks home on a regular basis.  I told Mom all this, and she told me she’s disappointed in me.  I said that was too bad, and…. Why am I writing all this down?  Does it really help?

     So, after long enough, I said goodbye and went to find Ken and Starsky.  They were in the waiting area, waiting.  Susie and Bob chased me down trying to get me to come home, but I told them to grow up.  They looked at me like I’d suddenly grown an extra head, but I guess I need to get used to that.

     Then they noticed I was walking away with Ken and Starsky. 

     “Who are you?”  said Bob, rather rudely.

     “They’re co-workers.  From the BCPD, where I work,” I told him.

     They pulled out their badges and showed him.  “I’m Detective Starsky and this is Detective Hutchinson,” said Starsky. 

     Bob got a funny look on his face.  “I’ve seen you guys somewhere before,” he said. 

     “We have to go,” I told the detectives.  Suddenly, I was taking over the situation, like I never had before.  “We have to go interview that witness.  Come on.”  I turned to Susie and Bob.  “You two need to grow up, like I said.  Take care of the family and I’ll send money home to you.  Spend it wisely.  I mean that.”

     Starsky was grinning at me.  “Yeah, let’s go interview that witness,” he said.

     When we got out in the parking lot, Ken turned to Starsky, laughing.  “Starsk!  You made it sound dirty or something.  Let’s go interview that witness!”

     “Well her brother was looking at us like we were perps or something.”

     “He saw you at last year’s Gay parade, when we were, um, protesting,” I told him.  “He’s starting to remember that right now.”

     “We don’t care,” said Ken.  “I’m sorry if it causes trouble for you, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”

      “Don’t worry,” I said.  “Right now, I don’t care either. My family seems to think I’m their servant.  Unpaid servant.”

     We got into the car and drove off.  Back in the doorway to the hospital I could see Susie and Bab staring after us.  Something about the look on their faces made me nervous. 

 

    


	8. Chapter 8

     Once we were in the car heading North, it struck me that I had been behaving very unlike myself.  And I didn’t care.  I’d restrained my own thoughts and feelings for the longest time.  Turned off my doubts and my worries for so long.  I hadn’t been raised like that in my earliest years.  Those years when we were happy.  Mom and Dad were strict, and I got spanked a lot.  We went to church on Sunday.  I was always home schooled and raised strictly in our faith.  But I hadn’t been entirely without freedom.

     We went to the beach every summer.  We did go to movies once in a while, as long as the movies showed good Christian principles.  I stayed overnight with friends who had more freedom than I did, and it was okay if I watched TV with them.  I was home schooled, but Mom made sure I was as well educated as possible, and she deputized friends and relatives to teach me things she didn’t know.  I wrote government tests to graduate from high school. I had worked part time at a seed store for a time. That’s how I was able to get the job I had now.

     But, as the years went on, home had become stricter and stricter.  Spankings turned to beatings, until Mom told Dad it wasn’t right for him to be whipping his teenage daughter, and he turned to beating her instead.  She stopped saying she wanted to have children out of love, and began to speak of her babies as bullets from her womb to fight the good fight to save the world from the evil homosexuals.  She had never suggested such a thing until Pastor Barnes took over our church congregation.

     I closed my eyes.  I was really putting all the puzzle pieces together now, and the picture was bleaker and bleaker.  “Ken?” I asked.

     Ken turned to look at me.  “Call me Hutch,” he said.  “All my friends call me Hutch.  Only my parents and the people at their church call me Ken.”

     “I’m sorry,” I said.  “I didn’t realize.”

     “Of course you didn’t know,” he said.  “That’s why I explained it to you.”

     “That’s kind of what I wanted to ask you.  If you didn’t mind talking to me about your parents and your church.”

     “Their church, not mine.  I don’t go to church any longer.  I’m not an atheist, and there are a lot of churches around that aren’t so hate-filled, but I just can’t tolerate any church after how they treated me.  I really don’t want to tell you all about it, at least not right now, here on the road.  But I can say that they tortured me, in every way, and all because they found out I was gay.”

     I was silent for a long moment, then I ventured, “But…but the Bible does say it’s a sin.”

     “Yes, it does.  A few verses out of books that are almost never read except for those verses, and a few statements by Saint Paul.  And people have turned that into a great tenet of their religion.  It’s fine for straight people. It makes them out to be working with God to create the world or something.  Their sexuality is holy and sacred and perfect and beautiful, and ours – Starsky’s and mine – ours is evil and ugly and horrible and from the devil.  All because of a few verses in the Bible.  And so that gives them license to abuse us.  It lets them kill us, even, with a clean conscience, and did so for many centuries. But they shouldn’t have clean consciences.  It’s never right to hate anyone as much as they hate us.  Hate…hate twists you inside.  It makes you ugly inside… Anyway, if you still want to talk about it with me, wait until we’ve talked to this witness and we’re off duty.  Starsky drives like a lunatic at the best of times.  When he’s mad….”

     Dave Starsky made a growling sound in his throat.  I caught sight of his face in his rear-view mirror, and looked away quickly.  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

     “None of it was your fault,” said Ken…I mean Hutch.  “We’ll talk again later, when we’re off duty and…I know. Let’s talk to this Marybeth Wilson, then log out.  We’ll go to the beach, where we can go swimming and cool down, and Starsky can pound sand if that doesn’t work.  How’s that sound, guys?”

     “Mmmmph,” said Dave Starsky. 

     “Okay,” I said.  “Who is this Marybeth Wilson?”

     “She has been reported to be the girl-friend or ex-girl-friend of a suspect in a murder case we’ve been investigating.  The local constabulary say they interviewed her, and she knows nothing.  We…Starsky and I prefer to talk directly to possible witnesses, and we got permission to do so.  You can help just by being there.  A young woman about her own age.  Very nice and wholesome looking.  Non-threatening.  Maybe she’ll be a bit more forthcoming.”

     I thought about all this as we drove on.  So, I was nice looking and wholesome?  For some reason that made me feel a bit low.  Maybe I should do something to shock people a little.  Just once in my life.

     Then we drove up to the house where this Marybeth Wilson lived.  We got out of the car.  I straightened my uniform, ran my hands over my long braid of hair, checked my face which was innocent of all makeup, and followed Starsky and Hutch up the path to the door.


	9. Chapter 9

     It took Marybeth Wilson a few minutes to answer the doorbell.  When she did appear, she seemed nervous to me.  I had no feeling at all that my presence was reassuring her.  In fact, the opposite.  I smiled at her and did my best to look quiet and ladylike and harmless, but it didn’t seem she was buying it.

     We sat down in her living room and stared at each other for a moment.  Starsky and Hutch were quiet in a way that seemed odd to me, and I’d only known them for a few days.  I began to feel useless.  They’d taken me on this expedition to help them out, after all.

     “Miss Wilson?” I said, at last.  “Thank you for agreeing to talk to us.  We just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

     Miss Wilson jumped to her feet, like she’d been shot or something.  “Of course,” she said.  “Let me get you all some coffee.”  She headed for the kitchen and took rather a long time to come back with the coffee pot and cream jug. 

     I looked at Starsky and Hutch.  Hutch shook his head just a little.  I assumed he wanted me to be quiet, and I really didn’t know what to say anyway.  Then he looked at Starsky.  Their eyes met and locked.

     They seemed to be having an entire conversation in utter silence.   In utter stillness.  Then Detective Hutchinson laughed and made a comment about hitting the road soon.  Detective Starsky looked at me, and his eyes were dark and cold at the same time, but I knew somehow the coldness wasn’t directed at me.  He shifted a little in his seat and carefully placed his arm so that he could reach his gun more easily.  Hutch did the same, smiling all the time. 

     I felt an awareness of danger.  I felt as if the three of us were in the middle of the danger, but we were comrades somehow.  It was a very strange feeling, and as if my brain was divided and something in the back of my head had taken over my entire thought processes.  Something cold and logical, that matched the coldness in Detective Starsky’s eyes.  It was so weird to feel a connection with someone I had taken to thinking of as an enemy.

     Right then Marybeth Wilson came back into the room with the carafe of coffee.  She asked me if I wanted some, and I said, “Yes, please.  Black, no sugar.”  I actually like lots of cream, and two sugar cubes.  She poured the hot coffee into a mug, her hands shaking.  I took a careful sip and made appreciative noises. 

     “Miss Wilson?” said Hutch.  “Do you mind if we….”

     “Certainly,” she said, and bent over to pour him out a cup of coffee.  “Cream?” she said.  She bent over a bit more and showed him her cleavage.  “Sugar?” 

     Hutch chuckled.  His eyes were twinkling.  “It’s not that sort of visit,” he explained.  “We just want a little information.  When was the last time you saw…?”

     Marybeth Wilson now looked terrified.  I saw a movement behind the slightly open kitchen door.  Suddenly a man ran out, and I thought I saw a gun in his hand.  “You stupid bitch,” he yelled.  “Can’t you even….”

     Before he finished his sentence, I acted without thinking.  I flung the entire contents of my coffee mug in his face.  Then I flung myself over Marybeth Wilson.  I couldn’t see what happened after that, but I heard a gun go off, and a loud cry.  Detective Hutchinson was asking Marybeth and myself if we were okay.  Detective Starsky was shouting at the gunman that he was under arrest. 

     “I’m fine,” I said.  “I think Miss Wilson is fine.”

     “Quit whining,” Starsky told our attacker.  “It’s just a flesh wound.  You shouldn’t go around threatening police officers with a gun if you’re not prepared to get hurt.”

     I got to my feet.  Hutch helped Miss Wilson up.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “He told me he’d kill me if I didn’t get rid of you -- or use me as a hostage to get away.  He told me to act like a sexy air head and tell you I didn’t know anything, but I’m no good at that kind of thing.”

     “No, you weren’t very convincing,” said Hutch.  “But we survived.  Partly thanks to Bethany.”

     “Me?”  I felt like a total idiot.  What had I done, other than throwing boiling hot coffee in the face of someone holding a gun?

     “You distracted him long enough for me to get a shot off before he did,” said Detective Starsky.  “We were aware something was going on, but he came out of the kitchen faster than we were expecting.” 

     “He was getting more and more nervous,” said Marybeth Wilson.  “He kept changing his plans, changing his orders. I tried telling him to just leave me alone and I’d get rid of you, but he wouldn’t listen.”

     “Stupid bitch,” said the gunman. 

     “Shut up,” said Hutch.  “Don’t talk to a lady like that.”  Off in the distance I could hear police sirens coming our way. 

    

    

    


	10. Chapter 10

     Well, I thought to myself, I did want to do something completely different from my normal behaviour.  I sat quietly in the local police station, watching Detective Starsky and Detective Hutchinson deal with the local police.  When they first burst into Marybeth’s living room, they wanted to arrest us.  The gunman – his name is Arnold Gunnarsson, I understand – was screaming about how we’d tried to murder him!  Starsky and Hutch stayed calm, identifying themselves and me.  Marybeth spoke up for us, telling the cops that I’d protected her from Arnold at the risk of my own life, and how brave I was. 

     That last bit.  It’s not how I remember it.  I just acted on instinct, that’s all.  I’m not brave.  But I’d agreed to help Detectives Starsky and Hutch, and all I’ve been hearing since I started to work at the BCPD – only a few days ago! – was how brave they were.  So I had to act brave, at least.  Even if I did act in an unwomanly way.  Women are supposed to stay back and let men protect them.  But….

     But in all my life, I don’t really remember it being like that.  I remember my Dad beating me -- and beating Mom.  I remember Pastor Barnes telling me that Dad was in the right and not to interfere.  The only time I remember men protecting me was at that Pride thing last summer, when Dad pushed me and the kids back, to stand in front of us and protect us from the queers.  The queers were Starsky and Hutchinson and they weren’t trying to hurt us.  What was Dad protecting us from? 

     I sat there in the police station, listening to Starsky and Hutch work out the arrest of the gunman, and our part in it.  My part in it.  It didn’t interest me.  I was still trying to work out what was going on in my own head. 

     Pastor Barnes told us that queers were out to destroy society.  How did they do that?  He never really explained, just said something about how the kind of sex they did was unnatural.  How did that destroy society?  Pastor Barnes never explained.  He just stated it as a fact, and most people in the congregation made approving noises and nodded their heads.  Maybe there was an explanation?  But why not tell us what it was?  Why not explain?

     “Bethany?  Bethany?”   I jumped.  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.  Here. Want some coffee?  This shouldn’t take too much longer.  You probably want to go home, right?”

     “Home?  No.  I never want to go home, Detective Starsky.”

     “Ah.  Okay.  I get the message. But I meant home to Bay City.  Hutch is better at this kind of negotiating than me.  We’ll be out of here soon, don’t worry.”

     “I’m not worried, Detective Starsky.  I’m just thinking.”

     “Thinking is good.  In moderation.  Hutch thinks too much, sometimes.  He tells me I don’t think enough. But you see, we balance each other out, you know?  And we’ve been under fire together.  Call me Dave.  Unless it’s against your religion.”

     “Huh?  No, and right now I don’t care anyway.  Dave.”  He chuckled. 

     There I was, sitting in a police station, talking and laughing with a gay police officer.  The husband of another gay police officer that I still wished…. But I was beginning to realize more and more that Hutch was out of my reach.  Everything they did, everything they said -- everything made it obvious that Ken Hutchinson was out of reach of everyone but David Starsky.  I’d been studying him ever since I started working with him, and it had just become clear to me.  David Starsky was sitting beside me, watching Hutch deal with the cops, and not taking his eyes off him for a moment.  I knew it wasn’t because he didn’t trust Hutch.  He was making sure Hutch was okay, that nothing was going to go wrong and endanger Hutch, even here in a police station.  Hutch glanced in our direction every few minutes and he was looking at David Starsky.

     I took a swallow of my coffee. 

     “I know,” said David Starsky.  “It’s police station coffee, but at least it’s hot.  When we finally break free of this cop shop, let’s go get some food.  Like we planned.  Hutch still wants to hit the beach, at least for a short break.  We caught our perp, even if he’s in the custody of these jokers.  We can log out, and go catch some sun before we head home.”

     “Sounds good,” I said.

     “You done thinking for now?”

     “Not really, but I can tone it down for a while. Until I get home.”

     “Then what?  Sorry, it’s not my business.”

     “Yeah, it is. We’ve been under fire together.  Tell me something?  Did you ever realize….”

     At that moment, Hutch came over to us.  “Hey, guys, we can blow this pop stand.  Let’s do it.  Starsky’s probably starving, right Starsk?”

     I followed them out to the car.  They called the BCPD and logged us out, as they had promised.  We headed for the coastal highway, and Hutch kept a lookout for a good place to stop and get some food.  We’d gone some miles and I was starting to feel as hungry as David was claiming to be.  “Hey, look,” Hutch said.  “There we are.”

     It was a little strip mall, and didn’t look all that great, but Hutch explained.  “There’s a little café there, we’ve eaten there before, remember Starsk?  And a store has a clearance sale on beach wear. We can get swimsuits, so we won’t look and feel like idiots at the beach.”

     “Let’s do it,” said David.

     I don’t know if I can even begin to describe the insanity of the next couple of hours.  I need another cup of coffee and a break to rest my hands before I start recording the entire saga.  That’s the word.  Saga. 

     And now I must confess something.  I’m not so sorry any longer that Hutch is completely beyond my reach.  He’s a great guy, and so nice and kind, but I think only David Starsky can really keep up with him.  I think I want my future husband to be a bit quieter and more peaceful and… domestic. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

     Before last week, my journal was mostly about things like how much canning Mom and I put up.  Or the sewing we did.  Stuff like that.  It was a way to keep track of my progress on becoming a housewife.  Necessary, but not exciting.  We rarely went out as a family, and there were few available men around. Ken was right about that. So, I’m not used to writing long stories like this.

     From the time Ken and David – Starsky and Hutch, I mean, I guess – from the time they ‘logged us out’, they changed.  They were professional before. Two cops working. Yes, Hutch brushed the back of Starsky’s hair as they drove along, but other than that you wouldn’t know they were anything but cops on a case.  After they logged out?  Well, I don’t mean they started kissing in the car as they drove. They weren’t pawing at each other or anything.  Nothing like the stories I’d been told about uncontrollable homosexual urges and behaviors.  No, it was like those times I’d seen them when they were going home from work, arms around each other.  That time in the cafeteria when they held hands.  They were just so involved with each other.

    We got food at that fast food restaurant Hutch suggested.  It was healthy food, and Starsky scoffed at it, but I thought he was doing it to tease Hutch.  Hutch had ordered a salad, and Starsky was teasing him about that, asking how he could live on rabbit food.  So then Hutch started eating right off Starsky’s plate.  I couldn’t believe it.  I mean I’d never seen an adult eat off another adult’s plate in my life.  But there he was, grabbing food off Starsky’s plate.

    Starsky didn’t seem to mind.  He barely seemed to notice.  He did frown at Hutch, and Hutch just grinned back at him. 

     The whole time they were talking.  About politics.  About sports.  About movies they wanted to see.  They didn’t ignore me. They included me in their conversations and asked my opinions.  Most of the time I had no idea what they were talking about, but I managed to say something or other about everything.  They really seemed interested in my opinions, which amazed me.

     Then they started asking me about my life before I worked with them.  I told them about the farm, and the things I knew how to do, like cooking and canning and drying herbs and making butter.  Hutch was really impressed at how much I knew.  It all seemed genuine, so we talked about making butter for a while.  Starsky chuckled but didn’t say anything to stop us. 

     “Is homemade butter really better than what you get in the store?” he asked.

     “Oh, yes,” said Hutch.  “I’ve had homemade butter and I miss it.  If we had the time, we could make some.  You just get cream and… and you don’t need a lot of cream or a real butter churn.  Just a stand mixer or even a jar to shake the cream in, and it turns to butter.  Then you can use the buttermilk left behind for baking. Right, Beth?”

     “Right,” I said.  “It does take time, but not a long time.”  I was a bit shaken by his shortening my name like that, which no one else had ever done.  It seemed Hutch liked nicknames.

     “Not a long time,” he agreed.  “It’s a matter of how much free time we have and how many things we have to allocate it to.”

     “What do you mean “we”, Blondie?”  said Starsky.  “I ain’t churnin’ no butter.”

     “Oh, come on, you’re great at churning my butter!”

     “Are you finished eating my dinner, or should I order more?”

     “I’ll never be finished eating….”

     “Hey!” said Starsky.  “You’re making her blush.  She blushes almost as pretty as you do.”

     I guess I was blushing.  I certainly felt my face growing warmer.  But somehow, I didn’t feel any disgust.  I was supposed to feel disgust.  What was wrong with me, I wondered?  While I was sitting there picking at what was left of my own dinner and wondering why I wasn’t disgusted, Hutch got to his feet and and announced he was finished eating Starsky’s dinner and how about if we headed to the beach before going home.  We needed bathing suits, he added, and there was a store with a big sale on, just next door.  So we finished up eating and made our way next door.

     Then things went a little crazy, at least for me.  Shopping had always been serious business at home.  I’d never been allowed to do any shopping on my own, even for my own clothes.  We made most of our own clothes at home, and Mom and Dad approved the patterns.  Anything fashionable was out of the question, but I had never cared.  Clothes were for covering the body, not for looking attractive. That was what I’d been taught.  Now I was in this big store with rack after rack of swimsuits and other clothing items I knew nothing about. 

     Now the guys really started teasing each other.  Starsky found a swimsuit on a rack and held it up for Hutch’s approval.  It was tiny.  I mean tiny. 

     “Starsky, I’m not wearing that. And neither are you.”

     “Hey!  How dare you tell me what I can wear.”

     Hutch shook his finger under Starsky’s nose.  “You’re not wearing that, and that’s final.  It’s…it’s immodest. Right, Beth?”

     I looked at the swimsuit. What there was of it.  ‘Um, yeah.” I managed to say.

     “See?  You’re outvoted.”

     This sort of thing went on for some time, but eventually they settled down and picked out swimsuits that still looked too small for me but seemed to make Hutch happy.  Then they looked my way.

     “Starsky?” Hutch asked.

     “Yeah, Hutch?”

     “Have you ever known a woman who didn’t seem to enjoy shopping for new clothes?”

     “Never, but I guess they exist.  I don’t know all the women in the world after all.”

     “Me neither but…Need help, Beth?”

     “I’ve never shopped for my own clothes,” I whispered.

     “Well, that’s easily fixed,” they assured me.  And if I’d thought things were crazy before, that was nothing.  They weren’t teasing me or anything, but they clearly had ideas about clothes that I’d never encountered.  They thought I should wear bright colours!

     “Bright blue,” said Hutch.  “Like this.”  And he held up a dress in front of me.  “Oh, yeah. That brings out your eyes.  Right, Starsky?”

     The next thing I knew, I was trying on bright blue swimsuits that made me blush, though to be fair they did cover everything. But I hadn’t worn a swimsuit for years, and it felt weird. 

     Then I tried on the dress Hutch had offered me.  It was modest, I admit, except for the colour.  “What?  You want grey or something?”  he asked me.  I shuddered. 

     He was right, much as it scared me to admit it.  And so we headed to the beach, me wearing a bright blue swimsuit under a silky dress that floated around me like a bright blue cloud. 

    

    


	12. Chapter 12

     I hadn’t been to the beach for so many years.  Half my lifetime at least – and that makes me feel old.  I stared at the blue water and the sun sparkling off the waves and the people in swimsuits and I felt old.  The guys had changed into their swimsuits in the back seat of the car, and then ‘hit the beach’ as they put it. That made me feel old too.  Suddenly they reminded me of my brothers when they were younger, and so cute. I’m younger than Starsky and Hutch, but on the beach, they acted like kids.

     I carried a blanket from the back seat of the car, down from the parking lot, and spread it out on the sand. The guys ignored me and went running down the beach to the surf.  They chased each other around and dragged each other into the water, and threw water at each other, and just generally acted like little boys.  I sat on the blanket and stared at the sea.  I was surrounded by people, but somehow, I felt alone.  It was a nice aloneness, like finally I could think.  I cried a little bit, not because I felt lonely, but over the whole situation with my family.  Starsky and Hutch left me alone, as I had never been left alone before, I think.  My family had always been there, in one way or another, telling me what do and say and think.  And what to feel.  I had felt loved, and strong.  I’d had an identity, and I’d loved it.  But I realized I had never known what I thought or felt, or what I would have said or done all on my own. 

     Who was I?  Separate from my family, what did I know?  What were my own feelings about things?  Who was I?

     I looked down at my bright blue dress.  Then I looked up at the bright blue ocean.  I looked at Starsky and Hutch playing in the surf.  I pulled the dress off, to reveal my bright blue swimsuit. Then I jumped up and ran down the beach to join them playing in the surf.

     We played for hours, and it was totally like I was their little sister.  Ever since Mom and Dad had named me a kind of honorary second mother in the family, I hadn’t had the time to play, and I’d been made to feel as though having fun was just wrong.  But here were two guys – tough cops – playing like kids, and now suddenly I was too.  We chased each other up and down the beach, swam in the ocean, splashed each other, and it was all innocent.  Hutch rented a surfboard and surfed a bit, though he said the surfing wasn’t exactly great at that beach. 

     When we finally stopped, my hair was a mess.  It had come out of the braid long before and was streaming down my back.  We were all hungry again, as well.  We headed back to the mall to get a snack to maintain us on the way home, as Starsky said.  We were walking along the sidewalk beside the stores, and I stopped and said, “Is that a hairdressers?”  There was a sign in the window that said, “No Appointment Necessary”. The guys laughed and rolled their eyes, but I marched in, as if I knew what I was doing.  I’d never been to a hair dressing place before.  Mom had trimmed my hair when I was a kid.  After that, I just braided it and let it grow.  But I’d seen them on TV when I was visiting friends.

     “I don’t want my hair short,” I told the hairdresser.  “I want it cut to here.”  I indicated my shoulders. 

     “No problem,” said the hairdresser.  He combed out my hair, braided it from the ends up to my shoulders, cut it shorter, washed it, conditioned it, and then began to trim it properly.  When he was happy with it, he began to blow it dry, which startled me at first, but as I watched my hair dried and turned to waves.  All the time he chattered away about politics and movies and TV shows.  I knew nothing about most of the subjects, but he made me feel sophisticated and worldly. 

     Meanwhile, Starsky and Hutch had been back to the fast food place and picked us all up some food to go, once we were back on the road.  I thanked the hairdresser and paid him, and it left me almost broke.  But once the guys saw me and said, “Wow!”, I decided it was worth it. 

     “How much is my share?” I asked them when they showed me the boxes of “take out”. 

     “Oh, don’t worry.  Our treat,” said Starsky.  “We kept you out for hours, when you could have been home having a proper dinner.”

     “Okay, but I’ll buy you coffee tomorrow.” I would need to draw some money out of the bank first, but I didn’t admit that.

     We drove home, eating fish and chips, and then they walked me up to my apartment door.  They said goodbye, and headed home themselves.  When I walked into my apartment, Sharon gaped at me.  “Where have _you_ been?  What have you done with…?”

     “I got my hair cut,” I explained.  “But you know where I was.  I went to see my Mom.  Then we stopped on the way home to go swimming.”

     “So you spent all day with a couple of evil homosexuals?”  Sharon was laughing, though.

     “Yeah, but they didn’t do anything evil that I could see.  Except they pushed me to spend money on myself.”

     Sharon laughed even harder.  “Good for them,” she said. 

 


End file.
